


On Joyful Mornings

by JessBakesCakes



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Episode: s02e10 Noël, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:54:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29240181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessBakesCakes/pseuds/JessBakesCakes
Summary: “Are you afraid of me?”What she wants to say isJoshua, sweetheart, right now you’re about as terrifying as my neighbor’s new puppy.But there’s a palpable sadness in his voice when he asks her. So instead, she can only say “Of course not, Josh,” and put down the carton of eggs before joining him on the other side of the counter.Or, Josh and Donna wake up on the morning after the events of "Noel".
Relationships: Josh Lyman/Donna Moss
Comments: 8
Kudos: 95





	On Joyful Mornings

**Author's Note:**

> This was a tumblr prompt from MeanderingStream that turned into a full-blown one-shot that I'm decently proud of, so I'm posting it here too! The prompt was "are you afraid of me?" My tumblr is @jessbakescakes, please feel free to come say hi and hang out! Thank you for reading!

It takes Donna a moment to orient herself when the sun wakes her. She basically lived here while Josh was recovering, yet it still feels strange to have spent the night now that Josh has been back at work. She stretches and trudges over to the coffee pot, thankful that she had the foresight to set it the night before when they returned from the emergency room. She pours herself a cup of coffee and places it on the coffee table, then folds up the blankets she slept under and places them on the arm of the couch.

There are certain areas of the living room that haven’t been touched since she last stayed over. It’s a visual reminder of how they aren’t that far removed from the nights she used to wake up and check to be sure he was still breathing, as if the events of the last few weeks weren’t reminder enough. She feels the tears starting to well up in her eyes but she takes a deep breath, reminding herself that Josh is here, Josh is alive, Josh is as okay as he’s going to be right now. 

Sitting in the corner of the living room is a basket of clean laundry - mostly casual clothes and pajamas - that Donna folded for him at some point on one of the last nights she spent at Josh’s place. After pushing aside a few clean towels, Donna finds Josh’s Harvard sweatshirt, which she pulls over her head before grabbing her coffee on her way to the kitchen.

Josh has enough food here to throw together a small breakfast, surprisingly enough, so Donna gets to work. She’s getting started on pancakes from a box of instant pancake mix she found in his cabinet when Josh emerges from the bedroom. 

“Good morning, sunshine,” she teases. “I made coffee, and I’m working on breakfast.” She walks toward the fridge and opens it. “You only have three useable eggs, so it’s up to you how you want me to make them.” 

“Are you afraid of me?”

Donna stops in her tracks. She knows why he asked, of course, considering the events that led up to their trip to the emergency room the night before. But the question makes her feel like her heart is breaking into thirty million pieces. If she didn’t know how serious he was, how this seems to have bothered him enough to compel him to ask her this question when he hasn’t even been awake for five minutes, she would laugh. He’s in a wrinkled t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair is sticking up in five different directions instead of the usual three, and his eyes are barely open. 

What she wants to say is _Joshua, sweetheart, right now you’re about as terrifying as my neighbor’s new puppy_. But there’s a palpable sadness in his voice when he asks her. So instead, she can only say “Of course not, Josh,” and put down the carton of eggs before joining him on the other side of the counter. 

“I put my hand through a window,” he says, rubbing his face with his uninjured hand. 

“I know.”

“I spent almost the entire day yesterday with...” Josh doesn’t finish the sentence. 

“I know that, too.”

“I woke up and you weren’t there,” he says. His voice is still sleepy-sounding, but his eyes are open now. He turns his head toward her for a minute, then looks at the floor before her gaze fully meets his. 

He’d asked her to stay over, which she was planning on doing anyway. But when he asked her to stay in his bed, it became clear to her just how bad things were for him. 

“I kept bumping your hand,” she explains. “I didn’t want to make you get up and switch sides with me. So I took the couch. I’m sorry.”

It’s not a lie. She kept accidentally bumping his hand. Donna was so worried about hurting his hand (and about him in general) that she barely slept. Each time she dozed off, she woke up touching him, and as happy as she wanted to be, it was unsettling to realize she’d let her guard down so much. _He is your boss_ , she chided herself. _You are his assistant_. There are boundaries there, even for the two of them. So she ended up on the couch, crying herself to sleep and wishing things were different. 

Josh doesn’t say anything in response to her explanation. He just swallows hard and crosses his arms, his eyes still glued to their spot on the floor. 

“Josh,” Donna says, gently putting a hand on his back. “I’m not afraid of you. I promise.” 

He turns his head and studies her face for a moment. Whatever he finds there seems to satisfy him. “Well… good,” he exhales. She can feel the tension in his muscles dissipate. “‘Cause I don’t think I could forgive myself if you were.” He walks over to the coffee pot and pours himself a cup as his words hang in the air. 

Donna walks over to the stove and starts to cook, just to give herself something to do. If her mind is busy, if her hands are busy, things will be okay. This feeling will pass. They stand in the kitchen in silence save for the sound of drawers being opened and eggs being cracked, while Josh leans on the counter, watching the finished stack of pancakes get bigger and bigger. 

She looks up at him, then back at the last pancake she’s making when Josh finally speaks. 

“Did you say you were bumping my hand?” 

“Yeah. I…” Donna doesn’t finish the sentence, but she smiles. She knows he’s got her now. She fights off a giggle. “Shut up.” The emotional whiplash she’s experiencing at this moment is overwhelming. Not two minutes ago, she felt so despondent. And now here she stands, her heart practically leaping out of her chest at the simple initiation of familiar banter. 

“You basically just admitted it,” Josh points out. “Donnatella Moss, self-proclaimed bed hog.” 

“Your hand was on _my_ side,” Donna protests, dropping a finished pancake onto a plate. “And maybe if _you_ didn’t steal the covers I wouldn’t have to be a bed hog.”

They used to tease each other about their sleeping habits after Rosslyn. Nights spent in bed together were rare; he only asked at his lowest, when he felt the most vulnerable, on his worst days. So mornings that began with playful accusations of cover stealing and bed hogging were hopeful, a fresh start. _Joy cometh in the morning_ , as she’d heard President Bartlet quote before. And those days made her believe it. 

It’s not lost on her how domestic all of this is. She’s making their breakfast, wearing his sweatshirt, and arguing with him about sides of the bed. It’s everything she’s ever wanted. It’s joyful. It feels right. It feels safe. 

And somehow that makes her heart break just a little more. But she’ll let herself feel that later.


End file.
